


Chainmail Ties

by abyssith



Series: A Candy Cane Scarf From A Well-Dressed Dwarf [3]
Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan
Genre: Blitzen almost dies, Blitzstone, Canon details, Fight with Fenris Wolf, How Do I Tag, Kind of bad fluff, Little bit of angst, M/M, Mid-battle fluff, POV Blitzen, POV First Person, This is what happened when Hearthstone checked Blitzen's neck, help me tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 04:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7830112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abyssith/pseuds/abyssith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don’t do that again, Hearth signs at me fiercely, blinking furiously as the tears roll down his cheeks. You scared me. You scared me so much. Don’t do it again. Do not die.</p><p>OR:</p><p>The one where I tell you what happened when Hearthstone checked Blitzen's neck during the battle with Fenris; contains a little angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chainmail Ties

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know where I was going with this. It's an 'ok' oneshot, but it's definitely not my best work. It does have its virtues, though. At least they're not sleeping.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own nor do I pretend to own Magnus Chase: The Sword of Summer in the entirety of its content. All characters, settings, mentioned plot lines, etc. belongs solely to Rick Riordan, his team, and whoever the Helheim created Norse mythology.

There’s nothing that makes me feel happier than watching a sixteen-year-old demigod madman charging a magic demon wolf eons old with a very uncooperative sword in his unexperienced hands. Sure, I’m pretty sure he’s gonna die and his heart’s gonna become Fenris’s new chewtoy, but Magnus has surprised me before. Namely, by proving that you can, in fact, die twice, both very painfully and somewhat heroically.  
“I’ll tie him up,” I had said seconds ago. “Hearth can guard me.” The elf is in front of me, his face working with controlled anger and concentration. It was kind of scary to see that sort of expression on Hearthstone’s face. For the entirety of our time together, he had always been somewhat of a vulnerable little angel to me, and I was so used to seeing a very calm, almost bored look on his face. He never really gave away his emotions through his face, and I was the only one who knew what he was really thinking, for the longest time. But here he is, holding the Magical Heather Staff of Power, and for the first time, I’m scared of him.

Don’t get me wrong. I know he’s not gonna hurt me. But this kind of rage and determination was so unreal on Hearth’s gentle face that I can’t help but be intimidated in a really impressed way. Time slows down around me as I stare at him, and in the split second that passes that really feels like a millennium, I think back to all the times where I had held him so tightly as he sniffed against my chest after a breakdown. Like in Jotunheim. I liked that. I liked being his guardian. I liked being his shoulder to cry on. I liked hugged him at night, breathing in his piney scent as I guided my fingers through his bleached platinum hair while he fell asleep against me. And I still like it. But now I begin to wonder if that’s all going to change with this transformation on the Wolf’s Island.

I know Magnus was in shock for a few moments, too. I could see it well written all over his face, when Hearth told us to focus. But somehow the kid had been able to get his mind back into the swing of things relatively quickly, and I’m almost as impressed with that show as I am with Hearth.

So with all that being said, including my little half-second vision, I’m just short of very much distracted when Magnus lunges at Fenris just after he snarled at me, “Blitz, do what you need to do. I’m going to knock this mutt’s teeth out.”

I reach forward, my mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as I shout, “Kid, no,” but he’s already being shredded. I watch blood fly through the air and spatter the stones around the kid as the two face off — or, at least, as Fenris tries to tear Magnus to pieces and is generally successful as Frey’s son attempts to fend him off. My stomach lurches, and I almost lose hold on Andskoti. I glance up at Hearth, making sure my concern is very clear on my face. He stares down at me and gives me a grave look, which I almost miss because I’m immediately drawn to his eyes. Wow. Have they always been that passionate? I swear there are ice-colored flames dancing in them right now.

Suddenly his hand’s around my shoulder, shaking me. I blink and give him a puzzled look, and Hearth frantically points at the pair of boy and wolf, locked in a deadly dance. His message is as clear as if it was spoken in my head (and I can easily make that comparison): GO.

I grit my teeth and nod, looking down at the string and fumbling to tie the end into a noose. My fingers have always been nimble as a dwarf craftsman, but my stress is beginning to affect it. Thankfully I’m able to tie the loop tight and then I inch to the edge of the heather carpet, sucking in a breath. I look back at Hearth for a second, seeing his face more tense than I felt. But I can’t dwell on it — as much as I suddenly love staring at Hearth, Magnus is dying. Again. And that is frustrating.

I squeeze my eyes shut and fling myself forward, aiming at Fenris’s hindquarters. I move faster than I ever had before, but it’s pointless, because the Wolf instantly sidesteps my lunge, causing me to falter in step as I stumble. That same sidestep causes a swing of Sam’s axe to miss, and then the Wolf turns on me.

Once again, everything slows down. For a moment in eternity, it’s just me and Fenris, his eyes blazing, his teeth glinting at me as he bares his huge fangs. There’s a blur of ash and scarlet, a sound of something tearing against metal and skin, and suddenly pain erupts in my neck.

I hear someone scream, “NO!” but it sounds a million miles away. The ground rushes up to meet me, and I don’t even feel my face hit the stone. I roll onto my side, groaning softly, my body limp. I vaguely feel something hot running down my skin, and when I slowly drag my fingers up to the middle of my collarbone and then bring them up to my face, I see a few spots of vermillion liquid staining my dark skin. Thank Odin there’s not that much — I almost forgot that I had my chainmail tie on. If it wasn’t on…I shudder when I think of the possibility. I may already be dead, my throat ripped out. I could have direct claw marks across my neck, opening up multiple veins and arteries. 

However, I’m still hurt. I feel woozy, and my face is on fire. Must’ve been the face-plant. 

My vision fades in and out, and because of it, I almost don’t see him.

At first I think it’s an ethereal spirit, because his body looks like it’s the living incarnation of the sun. Bright light licks over his fair skin and the rays spread from his body and the staff in his hands. Orbs of arctic blue and stone blaze with uncorked rage and overpowering anguish as the figure moves towards my limp body and the Wolf, who is standing in front of me, facing his new adversary. A cry rips through the air, and it takes me a moment to realize it was Hearth, because I have never heard him scream before. It’s terrifying, it’s fierce, it’s the embodiment of fury and panic and fierce resolution. 

And I can’t fathom the fact that all that anger at Fenris is undeniably for me. 

I watch in awe as Hearthstone brings the staff down hard against Fenris’s skull, and the Wolf lets out a yowl of indignation. Tongues of golden fire starburst from the connection, and I close my eyes as the light and heat washes over me. Suddenly my throat is cleared, and I inhale a shaky breath as the light dies down.

From my angle that I haven’t bothered to shift, I can’t really see Fenris’s forehead that well, but I can guess the mark that must be there. Hearth’s coached me on a small collection of rune names and what they mean a few times before, and from the look of surprise and admiration on Sam’s face and the general situation, I can make the assumption that Hearth had used the rune of sacrifice: Tiwaz, the rune of Tyr. To save me.

Hearth had told me how hard that particular rune was to cast; he explained how much energy it took. But his eyes look anything but tired as he glares daggers at Fenris’s whimpering form for less than a second. And then he turns towards me, the wrath and inferno instantly slipping away to give way to intense, overwhelming agitation. I would’ve met his eyes, but at that same moment his body turns, my temple leaps into a frenzy, and I close my eyes and groan as I try to battle the pain. I can only imagine how dead I must look.

I try to open one eye weakly as I hear the Wolf howl with (somewhat strained) laughter. His smooth, condescending voice fills the air as he snorts, “You sacrifice your strength to shield your friend?”

I see Hearthstone kneeling between me and the Wolf, obscuring some of Fenris’s form from my view. The elf’s back is towards me, and I know that the fatigue and exhaustion that came from the casting of Tiwaz is hitting him all at once because his arms are shaking, and I can see beads of sweat glistening on the nape of his neck.

“Fine. Enjoy your spellwork,” Fenris chuckles. “The dwarf is already dead.”

I keep looking at Hearth, and I so badly want to open my mouth and say that no, I was alive, the tie had saved me. But Hearthstone doesn’t know that, and he visibly flinches and almost gets smaller, trembling from the overtaxation and grief that he didn’t know was unnecessary. I can feel his pain almost as much as my own, and I wish that I could just say something, anything, to let him know I’m alive — because I know how much I mean to him, and I know how much he means to me. To lose me had once meant the ruin of his own sanity and will to live. I don’t know if that was still the same now that he had Sam and Magnus, but Hearth had raised me on a pedestal I didn’t deserve to stand on. That pedestal was cracking with each of Fenris’s words, because even though Hearthstone cannot hear, I know he can read the Wolf’s lips. He would not have reacted like that if he could not.

“Your own rune magic has doomed you. You can watch while I deal with my other tasty prey.” Fenris turns away after baring his fangs at us, glowering at Magnus. “Ah, well. A good try, Magnus, but the sons of Frey never were fighters. All that’s left for me to do now is devour my enemies. I love this part!”

Sometimes I wish I was deaf like Hearth, because he didn’t have to deal with Fenris’s monologuing.

The Wolf races back towards Magnus, leaving Hearth and me alone. Normally I would’ve been shocked into speechlessness when I glimpse Sam’s small, lithe form suddenly growing into a hunking golden pelt of a lioness, but I only have eyes for the broken elf in front of me.

I draw in hoarse, ragged breaths, raising my hand while gasping, “H-Hearthstone,” before remembering he couldn’t hear me. But he must’ve sensed something, because he whirls around towards me as I roll over, moaning as more agony pounds in my temple.

A word soundlessly forms on Hearth’s lips — I think it’s my name — right before he crawls over to me frantically, looming over my face, his eyes dark with trepidation. He sighs in relief, and it’s never been more obvious that he’s relieved. I try to grin up at him, but he ignores me as he undoes one of buttons on my shirt and pulls my collar to the side. I can’t do anything but lie there, feeling the blood throb in my neck against Hearth’s warm fingers as he checks my accelerated pulse. At first they’re stiff, but then they relax against me along with the rest of the elf’s body. It looks like Hearth was ready to collapse on me but he does not, instead capturing me with that icy gaze as he frowns at me, trying to look mad. 

He very much fails.

Instead tears well up in the corners of his eyes, and my eyebrows push together as I begin to shake my head instantaneously, whispering, “Hey, hey, come on, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to — ”

Don’t do that again, Hearth signs at me fiercely, blinking furiously as the tears roll down his cheeks. You scared me. You scared me so much. Don’t do it again. Do not die. Don’t you dare die, you idiot dwarf, do you understand me? I need you, and I can’t —

Having to stop signing, Hearth covers his mouth as he lets out a choked sob, and I sigh softly as I reach up and grip his wrists tightly, gently pulling them away from his face. “I’m staying right here,” I promise, feeling a lump grow in my throat, because I have never seen Hearth shed a tear at my expense or look this close to raw despair. “I’m staying right here, and that’s how it’s gonna be, okay? You’re stuck with me, and I’m not letting you go that easily.”

Hearth struggles to sign with his hands still trapped by my firm grip around his wrists. But — you cannot control that, he signs, still tearing up. You do not know what is going to happen to you.

“Well, if it’s in my control — ” I pause to gasp shakily, having to take short, quick breaths. “ — I won’t. You said you needed me. It’s considered polite to answer that. And I need you.” I grin at him hopefully, wanting to wipe away those tears but unwilling to let go of him. I let the fact that we’re still on a battlefield slip my mind, because Fenris could come down here and rip Hearth and I limb from limb right now, and I’d rather die holding him than any other way. “You look pretty great with that staff, by the way.”

Hearth sniffs. Thank you.

“And, buddy…” My voice gets softer, even though I know he can’t tell the difference, “you used the rune of sacrifice for me. I can’t tell you how honored I feel. Thank you. A lot.” I pause, feeling like that wasn’t enough. It required more to truly transmit the warmth in my stomach that I feel around him, the sense of gratitude like none other. So I smile and settle for switching to ASL, breaking my grip on one of Hearth’s hands to make a simple, one-handed gesture that I’ve almost never used for him because it’s never been needed. It is now, so I hold up the letters ‘I’, ‘L’, and ‘Y’ together, forming the sign for ‘I love you’.

Hearth hiccups and laughs breathlessly, incredulously, making a sound that sounds like a choked giggle. It sounds so adorable that I reach up and lock my hands around his neck, beaming, because this is such a stupid place to be doing this. I don’t even know if anyone’s watching us, but it doesn’t matter to me. I bring Hearth’s head down onto my chest, where he gratefully nestles his head into my body, bumping his head up into my chin. I feel the curves and contours of his face against my neck as he slowly lowers his body down onto mine, and at first I stiffen, because his face is positioned where the blood is. But Hearth doesn’t move from where he is. I take it as a good sign and hold him against me, trying to ignore the insistent burning that emerges when Hearth rests against my neck wound. I focus only on my hands around Hearth’s form, one entangled in his hair, one clasping his waistline. Hearth reaches around my neck and folds his arm around my head, making his forearms act as a pillow for me. I slowly rub my hand where it is on Hearth’s back, trying to ease the tensed muscles there. He’s crying now, holding me tightly, and I can feel the tears mixing in with the bit of blood that had managed to spurt out of the shallow wound that felt a lot deeper than it probably was. Normally I would’ve instantly wiped it away, but these moments were so rare that I just can’t spare the willpower.

Finally Hearth raises his head, his eyes red but sparkling, a pleased grin on his face. That’s the Hearth I know. I love and admire the Hearth that smacks magic Norse wolves across the forehead with a staff, but the one that stares at me like that as if he’d never seen anything more beautiful in the world is the one I want. 

He slips his hands from behind my head and glances away from me, his eyes widening at some unknown sight. Without looking back at me he signs, Look, and I follow his gaze, turning my head to the side. Instantly I beam when a very unexpected but equally amazing sight meets my eyes — a bound Fenris, frothing at the mouth and writhing on the ground, eyes crazed and wild. A very badly wounded lioness covered in deep flank scratches and claw marks making crimson stripes over her entire golden body is staggering listlessly, but appears quite satisfied. Magnus and Jack are staring at Fenris, tired and surprised. 

“We should, uh, see how they’re doing, ” I suggest, feeling the weight of Hearth’s body disappear as he rises off of me, nodding in agreement. He gets to his feet and offers me his hand, which I take gladly. However, the second I get to my feet, I almost pitch forward. Hearth’s hands fly towards me, grabbing the back of my collar and my bicep.

Breathing hard, I let Hearth ease me to a straight posture, looking down at me with amusement, but there’s certainly an undertone of panic that’s doing its best to stay hidden. I don’t blame him. He thought I was dead just a few minutes ago.

Hearth pokes my arm and I do my best to sling it around his neck, feeling heat rise up in my throat as his hand closest to my body wraps around my waist and pulls me close to his body. Together we stagger towards Magnus and Sam, and I occasionally have to dig my fingers into Hearth’s shoulders to keep my balance. But he stays silent and unwavering, holding me up faithfully.

Magnus and Sam glance at us as we arrive, and I wince at the girl’s wounds. Hearth gives a shy, embarrassed wave, too which Magnus gives a huge smile and a thumbs-up. I yawn at them, blushing as Sam winks at me, looking at my life-saving tie.

All four of us fall onto a bed of heather, the sweet smell of it bursting around us as it gets forced out of the flowers. “Alive,” Magnus mumbles, exhausted. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

I nod solemnly in response, feeling Hearth curl into my side like a huge puppy. To my left is Magnus, and on the other side of him is Sam. I soon learn that this peaceful second is going to be shortened in an abrupt, horrifying reveal of a dying Valkyrie, but I’ve long learned not to worry about the future. For now I just inhale the aroma of heather, pine, and cinnamon, feeling wisps feathery hair smooth underneath my fingers. I absentmindedly trace the grooves of Hearth’s face as I close my eyes, willing to indulge in this moment for as long as it lasts. He holds onto my shoulders, breathing evenly while he can. He tilts his head up and I feel lips brush my skin, and I think that he’s responding to my sign that he had never actually properly replied to. I can’t read lips as well as Hearth can, though, never mind reading it from the feeling it gives me, both physically and in my head.

But the meaning is obvious, and had the two of us truly been lost in another world, population one dwarf and one elf, like we both felt it to be, I could’ve very well cupped his face between my palms and kissed him on the lips there and then just to show him how delighted I was to have him with me, how humbled I felt when he burned Tiwaz into Fenris’s forehead and sacrificed his strength to save me — and he had thought that I had already left him. 

That realization scares me a little, because I’ve never felt that way before. It’s so abrupt, the desire’s so strong, and I don’t really know what to do with it. Up until now we’ve been very close friends and nothing more. However this quest has forced Hearth and I into multiple situations that had me worried sick about him, and I know he had felt the same in reverse. I don’t know love well enough to determine the way I feel about Hearth. What I do understand is the satisfied flow of energy that spreads from my heart to my slowly healing neck, up into my ears and throughout my fingers and toes. It comes from holding the elf; it comes from the feeling of the soft candy-cane striped scarf that tickles my skin exposed from the button he had undone; it comes from his hands braced against my chest.

Hearth’s lips leave my skin, and I feel a little bit of disappointment. I hear TJ’s faraway voice calling attention to Gunilla, but I physically cannot address it. I don’t speak. I just focus on the elf’s soft gaze fixed on my face, and although I can’t smile because of this new problem, I let my thumb trace over his cheek affectionately. Because he is here, and just as Fenris is anchored to this island with Andskoti, I am anchored to the Nine Realms by Hearthstone. His cry rings in my ears, and I hold him tighter, only able to steal one last second before we must leap to action once more. I decide I never want to hear it again, as beautiful as it was. 

Really, it depends on one thing. I cannot leave Hearthstone. And honestly, that won’t be a problem. 

Especially since I haven’t kissed him properly yet.

 

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Right yes I'm certain that my first two Blitzstone fanfics were better than this one, but that's okay since I've got plenty more in the works and I'm trying to get as many in before Thor's Hammer comes out this October (cue fangirling because I'm telling you, Blitz and Hearth are gone in the beginning because they eloped I swear). Check out the series this is part to if you haven't already, called Candy-Cane Kisses! Leave a comment below with any feedback, suggestions, or prompts. I hope you enjoyed!


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